


that's a sawn off shotgun

by asphodelgrimoire



Series: suck it and see [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asphyxiation, Bickering, Bigender Alex, Face-Sitting, Hair Braiding, Hand Jobs, Other, Rimming, Under-negotiated Kink, but also dicks, mostly bc alex doesn't even know he's doing it lmao, not choking but still, they cute, tjeffs is awkward af, wow a lot of feelings and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6689125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphodelgrimoire/pseuds/asphodelgrimoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I forgot these,” he said, gentle, and prompted Alex to let go of his arms with a nudge. Then, he pulled the shorter flyaway hairs that had escaped him before, tucked them behind his ear, and pinned them into place with a tenderness that was usually reserved for his kid sister. Alex’s eyes closed as he pinned a second area and stayed closed.</p><p>Thomas hadn’t done regular French braids in a while, as Anna discovered cornrows in 4th grade and never turned back, but the steps were almost the same and he’d done a damn good job.</p><p>(sequel to "dandelion and burdock" that spun out of control jesus christ)</p>
            </blockquote>





	that's a sawn off shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> oh my goddddd i did not mean for this to happen
> 
> i just wanted a lil porny fluff and instead i got PLOT and then FILTH
> 
> also like, to be clear, the asphyxiation is accidental tbh
> 
> it's not... really necessary to read "dandelion and burdock" but some lil things won't make sense if u don't????

Hamilton sat his bag down on the sofa as soon as he walked in.

“So, can you?” He turned around sharply on his heels, still holding the skirt in his left hand.

“French braid? Yeah,” Thomas responded, a bit hesitantly. He didn’t know where this was going.

“Would you braid my hair for me then?”

He looked so earnest, and his eyes were so bright that Thomas felt the need to look away. How could he say no? “Why not?” He sat down on the couch, trying to look as casual as possible when he was actually ready to jump out of his own skin. He stomped lightly on the area of carpet between his legs, and Alex took the cue, pulled his knees to his chest after settling in place. Only then did he realize he couldn’t fix up Alex’s hair without some supplies. “Ah,” He stopped the person from leaning back any further with a gentle hand, awkwardly moving around him to stand up. “I have to get a brush,” he said, and Alex nodded.

Thomas power-walked to the bathroom and went for the little wicker basket on the corner of the counter. He grabbed the brush, some bobby pins, a clip, and two hairbands that he’d used to keep his shirt sleeves rolled up. He also decided to take the never-before-used hair serum out of the cabinet, maybe as an excuse to play with Hamilton’s hair more.

When he came back, Alex looked pleasantly surprised. “I thought you were just going to get a brush!” he exclaimed, even as he scooted over to let Thomas sit back down behind him. Thomas dropped all of the items on the sofa beside his thigh except for the brush and the serum. He diverted his gaze in slight embarrassment, even knowing that Hamilton wasn’t looking at him.

“Yeah, well, you don’t want frizzy braids, do you?” Alex shook his head fervently. “Exactly. Trust me.”

“I do,” He said it in such a quiet voice that Thomas almost thought he wasn’t supposed to hear it. Instead of dwelling on that though, he gathered Alex’s hair into a ponytail with one hand and ran the brush through the whole of it just a few times. Most of it was so sleek and satiny he felt blasphemous just touching it, but there were some difficult knots that couldn’t be gotten out with Thomas’ soft-bristled hairbrush, and he went in with his hands to take care of them.

All the while ignoring how Hamilton was purring at the attention.

He opened the bottle of oil and poured a small amount onto his fingers to work it through the tangles, slowly going from root to tip. He eventually picked up the brush again, and this time, it went through cleanly. Another advantage was the shine. Alex’s hair gleamed, and bits of the golden streaks he’d acquired with spending more time outside were visible.

“That smells nice,” Hamilton said finally, when Thomas was running the brush through one last time just in case. “I like your hands better,” he hummed. It seemed like he was just saying whatever came to mind (not that he didn’t always do that,) but it made Thomas want to choke _again._ He refrained from doing so, but the desire was there.

He otherwise ignored the comments and stayed silent as he parted Alex’s hair down the center and clipped the right side while he started on the left. Separating three parts, he began to braid at the scalp and worked his way down. Hamilton hummed contentedly. Occasionally he’d have to tug a bit to straighten out any loose strands. Every time he did this, Alex would make a thin breathy noise.

“Sorry,” he said, after a third time, thinking he might have been pulling too hard. Hamilton only nodded. The next time he pulled was when he was finished with the plait, checking for loose ends and finding none. Alex actually whined this time and pressed the side of his cheek into Thomas’ knee. Thomas let go of the braid after fastening it with elastic. “Are you okay?”

“Feels good,” Alex murmured, and Thomas felt his grin more than saw it.

His face burned, and perhaps he pulled the clip out with more force than necessary, but really, who even says things like that?  Thomas considered the options available to him and the consequences of each as he quickly did the second braid. He didn’t know why he was so nervous when Hamilton was practically inviting him to make a move, but he didn’t let his embarrassment stop him from fully enjoying Alex’s hair between his fingers. The purring and sighing continued, and Alex pressed his face even more fully into the inseam on Thomas’ slacks.

“Done,” Thomas finally announced when both sides were plaited evenly and loose ends were put back into place. Alex immediately bounced up with a wide smile to go look at himself in the bathroom mirror. Thomas didn’t follow, trying to collect himself while Alex squealed happily at the sight of his hairstyle.

“They’re perfect,” he exclaimed as he walked back into the living room. He made a show of avoiding touching them, other than tugging at the tips of both pigtails almost manically. “This is perfect.”

Thomas nodded, not sure what else to say. Alex bent over slightly to pick up the skirt that he’d laid next to him when he’d sat down, and then promptly pulled it up over his sweats. He toed off his shoes and slipped off the pants only after being assured that he’d still appear decent. Thomas was really going to have to make resisting the urge to strangle himself a hobby, because Alex, in taking off his sweats, revealed opaque white stockings, or maybe tights. He couldn’t see where they ended, because the skirt was fairly long.

“It’s like a poodle skirt,” the person marveled, twirling for show and looking back at Thomas for feedback.

“Yeah,” he agreed. He wasn’t able to say much more, and Alex was coming closer. “It looks good on you,” Thomas offered, even as Alex advanced upon him with the same innocent smile he’d worn for the past few minutes. He lifted the skirt just a little, as if curtsying, and quickly got in Thomas’ personal space, placing his left knee on the couch next to Thomas’ thigh, and then his right. “What are you doing, Hamilton,” he said weakly as Alex straddled him, not with even enough conviction to be a question. He probably looked ridiculous, eyes wide, hair clip in hand, trying to sink into the leather sofa.

Each inch the skirt got lifted, he felt there was enough stressed involved to take a year off his life.

“What, I’m just enjoying your gift,” he said with an indecent pout, lowering himself into Thomas’ lap as he spoke. Soon- yep, stockings- he could see white lace, then smooth pale skin. (That wasn’t surprising, at least, Alex’s upper thighs had probably only seen the light of day a couple of times since he’d come to America.) Thomas arched away from him slightly, a last ditch effort not to embarrass himself any further. Alex just smiled. “Is this okay?”

Thomas huffed. “Now you ask me.”

Alex pursed his lips and suddenly looked out of his depth. “Is it?” he asked, a little dejected, a little panicked. His face twisted with unease, the thoughts in his head easy to see. Even without speaking, he couldn’t lie. _I misunderstood, he hates me, he’d never want-_

Thomas slid his hands up Alex’s thighs to where the bands held his stockings up. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. There’s gotta be a better position to sit on me than this,” he mumbled the second part, swiping the brush, bottle, clip, and pins off the couch. “Oh,” He picked up a few bobby pins that hadn’t been disturbed by his touch and looked toward Alex, who seemed both confused and relieved that he wasn’t going to be thrown out. He had a fluctuating grip on Thomas’ biceps, clenching and unclenching his fingers as if trying to calm himself down. “I forgot these,” he said, gentle, and prompted Alex to let go of his arms with a nudge. Then, he pulled the shorter flyaway hairs that had escaped him before, tucked them behind his ear, and pinned them into place with a tenderness that was usually reserved for his kid sister. Alex’s eyes closed as he pinned a second area and stayed closed.

Thomas hadn’t done regular French braids in a while, as Anna discovered cornrows in 4th grade and never turned back, but the steps were almost the same and he’d done a damn good job.

He didn’t touch the braid itself, not wanting to ruin it, instead fiddling with the soft tendrils at the base of Alex’s neck. He didn’t know when he’d become enthralled with the person’s hair, but he had.

“So about better positions,” Alex started, opening one eye and smiling. Thomas paled, letting Alex stand up again before he twisted himself to lie lengthwise on the couch. He settled in and didn’t bother resting his head on the arm. Alex invited himself back into Thomas’ lap without much prompting needed, this time his hands ended up on either side of the man’s shoulders, and he leaned forward to stare down at Thomas with inquisitive black eyes.

He felt his entire body grow warm, and he let his hands drift to Alex’s hips. “We haven’t even kissed yet,” Thomas noted, not sure whether he wanted to slow down or not. On one hand, he was obviously biting off more than he could chew at one time, but on the other, Alex was wearing the skirt he’d bought, and Thomas was unfortunately able to come up with several poetic descriptions of his eyes. He was reminded of how inconveniencing emotions were, but couldn’t stew any more about it when Alex leaned forward and kissed him hard. It was awkward, with the angle and distribution of weight on top of him, but when his hands went to Alex’s shoulders to help him keep himself up, a bit of the awkwardness dissipated.

Alex pulled away. “There, now we’ve kissed,” he said, pressing another to Thomas’ jawline. “Happy?”

Thomas shrugged and kept his hands where they were. “Sure,” he said as if he wasn’t dying slowly.

Alex apparently did not appreciate the nonchalant attitude though, because he started scooting closer, now sitting more on Thomas’ lower stomach than his lap. “Only sure?” His eyelashes fluttered, mocking.

 _Oh, fuck it._ “You want me to help you with something?” Thomas asked, palming Alex’s cock through the skirt just hard enough that he could feel it. He got a purr and an arched back for his troubles, but slowed to a stop to let Alex speak. He kept his hand there and felt the person rock his hips against it for any kind of pressure.

“You’re deflecting,” he whined, then placed one hand on Thomas’ chest, effectively pushing him down into the sofa. “But yeah, I do. Are you gonna beg for it?”

“Hell no,” Thomas was reminded sorely of why he hadn’t acted on his wish to take Alex to bed: because he was frankly annoying as fuck.

And when had he started thinking of Hamilton as Alex in the first place?

Alex didn’t seem to fazed by the refusal. “Didn’t think so. Oh well,” he sighed, smiling as though he was looking at a wet dog. “I had to try. How do you want me?”

Thomas still had some hesitation in admitting what he wanted to do, but Alex had instigated this, and Thomas was sure that with the squad in his frequent company, that there wasn’t much that would scare him. “Turn around. Sit on my face,” Alex raised an eyebrow, but swung his leg over to sit on his knees before turning himself around and re-straddling the man below him.

“So what, should I crab walk backwards until I’m above your mouth?”

Thomas couldn’t help it; he started laughing, almost hysterically. He would have apologized for the outburst except that Alex was snickering too, turning his head to grin at Thomas, who was slowly settling down from his fit.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” he said, swatting a curl of his own hair out of his eyes. “This is fucking ridiculous.”

“Is it the braids? The stockings? A Dolce and Gabbana skirt I told you not to buy?” Alex smirked over his shoulder and shimmied a little for emphasis.

“No, just you,” he laughed gently and shook his head. As carefully as he could, Thomas sat up, with his hands on Alex’s hips and chest to his back. He had a good hold, but Alex leaned towards the back of the sofa to make sure he didn’t fall off, and looked at Thomas. Both eyebrows raised, lips parted, eyes wide and uncharacteristically meek. He bowed forward just a little to touch his lips to Alex’s, wrapping an arm around him to splay his hand on the person’s stomach. The kiss was softer than their first, and Thomas felt smaller hands come up to clutch his forearms; he could only press in harder, more desperate. It was still chaste- well, as chaste as an open-mouthed kiss could be- but Thomas distantly had the decency to be embarrassed at how he was sucking Alex’s bottom lip into his mouth like a starving man.

Soon, the moment ended, when the hands on his forearms gently pushed him away. He tried not to look offended, and succeeded. He tried not to be offended at all, and failed miserably.

Alex gestured with his hands for a moment and furrowed his brow in thought. “I… We should talk about this, but later. Right now, can we just-?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, and Ales tipped his head gratefully. “But are we- do you-?”

Alex pressed a finger to his lips. “Yes, now hush,” Thomas huffed, but didn’t say anymore, lying back again. He couldn’t see Alex’s face anymore, and probably wouldn’t for a while, but Thomas didn’t mind, because the person was now kneeling above his chest, then his neck, and soon he had flowery cotton billowing in his face. He only got to pull it up halfway before he was stopped with a “wait,” and wait, he did. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m clean or not? I mean, you’re about to have your tongue up my ass, and that seems like a logical thought process, not that I think you’re logical, but-“

Thomas sighed and dropped his head back onto the sofa. “You announced to everyone that you didn’t have any venereal diseases in Angelica’s dorm about two weeks ago, and I doubt you slept with any Casanovas in that time,” he said. He could imagine the deep flush on Alex’s face easily.

“I could have been lying,” he quipped, crossing his arms over his chest.

“If you were lying then, why would asking you now make any difference?”

Silence for maybe 10 seconds. “You got me there. I’m guessing this means you _don’t_ have mouth herpes? Or anything else?”

Thomas smiled, even knowing that Alex couldn’t see him. “I’m clean, yes, so if we could get on with it, that would be preferable.”

Alex sighed as if it physically pained him to agree, and it also physically pained him to want to agree. “Fine, but if you’re lying…” he trailed off, shaking a finger threateningly as he scooted further back. He let Thomas flip up his skirt to take off his boxers.

“Stockings and boxer briefs? I didn’t take you as a person who half-assed things.”

“Shut the hell up, or you’ll be a person who doesn’t get any ass at all.”

And he couldn’t argue with that. By then, Thomas was fully under the skirt, which despite being fairly long, didn’t get in his way too much. He was a bit chagrined that he couldn’t see Alex’s face, but this was good enough for him. _It’s not like I haven’t fantasized about Hamilton’s ass in my face before._ Alex, for the most part, was quiet above him, except for a faint giggle when he yanked the grey boxers down. He only pulled them down enough to get to his ass, considering there was no way Alex would agree to get off Thomas just to remove his underwear properly.

He had a brief internal conflict on how to proceed. One, he could breathe hot and wet on Alex’s hole and make him beg, and two, he could stop fucking around and get on with it. The real issue with number one was that he wasn’t sure _Alex_ would be the one begging. Thomas knew that if anybody could make teasing backfire, it would be him. (And some small part of Thomas accepted that he himself was already prepared to beg.)

So, he got to work. Licking up from his perineum to his tailbone, Thomas compromised. He was still technically teasing, but it wasn’t anything that would make Alex want to gain the upper hand. He laved his tongue in circles over his hole, keeping most of his fingers the person’s narrow hips and using his thumbs to open Alex up wider.

He wasn’t making much noise yet, but he’d just begun to brace one hand on Thomas’ midsection. Sometimes his palm would dig in, and Thomas would gasp against him. It was something about being under him- and his skirt, no less- not being able to see him, _him not looking at Thomas,_ the pressure. He was unreasonably hard for someone who hadn’t been touched whatsoever, but he was a bit glad to see Alex’s cock filling out as well, still in the boxers.

Thomas was still licking in broad strokes when Alex started rocking a bit, only small noises and uneven breaths coming out of his mouth. Still, it was a reaction. And wasn’t that what Thomas had always wanted from him? Desiring more of a response, his lips drifted down to suck on that spot behind his balls again. Alex immediately bucked, panting and kneeling a bit higher to lessen his sensitivity, but Thomas pulled him back down onto his tongue and lightly scraped his teeth over that spot, not letting him cop out yet. Soon, he found that Alex was amazingly responsive- whining, trembling, cursing- and that his hand was pressing harder in between Thomas’ lowest set of ribs. It should have hurt, but all he could register was that breathing became slightly more difficult. That just meant more coming up for breath. He could do that. He almost liked the breathlessness.

He pointed his tongue, and Alex made a sound that had Thomas’ cock jerking.

After giving a fair share of attention to Alex’s hole, he went back to his perineum and snuck a hand around to pump his cock.

“Fuck,” Alex said, panting hard. “Not even going to take me out of my boxers?” He had barely finished his sentence when another whine bubbled up in his throat.

Thomas pulled his mouth away but replaced it with a thumb. “Can’t get,” he struggled to get the words out, his voice a slurred rasp. Kept his hand in Alex’s boxers. “Can’t get your skirt dirty.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Alex repeated and rocked into the hand on his cock, occasionally pushing back to get more of the man’s tongue. Several high-pitched breathy whimpers later, he was coming with Thomas’ hand circling the head, and shouting as he rode it out.

By then, Alex’s palm was forcing Thomas to wheeze, and he was 99.9% sure he’d never been so hard in his life. He gasped a bit as Alex moved down to sit on his chest, unbuttoning his slacks viciously. Thomas could see without the fabric in the way, but the person still wasn’t facing him. Alex stroked him off, quick and filthy. He let out a guttural moan as spots came to his vision, and as Alex began to speed up. Thomas took in shallow breaths and twisted his hips as best he could with someone sitting on his chest, being sickly delighted when it made Alex press down harder.

It didn’t take long for Thomas to come on his hand with a choked-off cry, dizzy and worn out and overwhelmingly _sated._ He distantly realized that his hand was still in Alex’s boxers, and that his pants were already buttoned up again. And with equal amounts of relief and disappointment, Thomas noted that Alex was slipping back off of his chest into his lap.

“Shit, your sofa is huge,” he remarked, still breathing hard, falling onto the couch next to Thomas and clinging to his midsection.

“We should also probably talk about that,” Thomas said, and he hated how affectionate familiarity tinted the words. He wrapped an arm around Alex to keep it from going numb under him.

“About your sofa, or the sex?”

He sighed. “Sex, obviously. You practically suffocated me at the end there.”

Alex frowned up at him and nudged until he could rest his head on Thomas’ shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t know I was-“

“It’s okay, honestly,” But Alex didn’t seem convinced of that, still frowning. “I liked it. I just don’t like the chance of potentially dying.”

Alex gave him a look that clearly said, _you kinky motherfucker, you,_ but his expression quickly turned serious. “I guess we are going to have to talk about this then,” he sighed as if it were the greatest inconvenience he’d ever faced. It was almost ironic how Alex would usually be railing to talk about his feelings, although admittedly, those weren’t romantic or sexual. “Also, your hand is still in my underwear. Not that I have a problem with that, but just so you know.”

Thomas almost laughed again at the absurdity of it all, but moved his hand to a less strange position, on Alex’s hip.

“Hey, Thomas?”

“Yeah?”

Alex looked at him grimly and clung tighter. “Is it true that all Southern grandmas have cornbread recipes? Does your grandma have a cornbread recipe?”

“Are you serious?” Thomas shook his head. “I can’t speak for all Southern grandmas, but mine does in fact have a special cornbread recipe. Several, actually,” Alex nodded for him to go on. “The best one has honey and blueberries. One of my aunts on my dad’s side gave her this disgusting recipe with fucking goat cheese and onions. That shit isn’t cornbread. That’s some white Hamburger Helper ass shit, that’s what that is. Like, what are you trying to do, make a quiche?” By this point, Alex was giggling against his chest. “She’s insulting the family name, really,” he finished with a huff.

“Thomas, global warming is real and the economy is shit. How can you be upset about bad cornbread?”

Unfortunately for Alex, Thomas wasn’t taking that bait. He pulled the person closer to his chest and rubbed his cheek against the top of Alex’s still-braided hair. “First of all, you shut your whore mouth, and secondly, your braids are messed up. Shouldn’t have plopped on the couch like that.”

Alex huffed and pushed himself up on his hands. “Thirdly, my boxers are sticky. Take them out.”

“So soon?” he asked, even as he tugged the elastics out and carefully unwove each row, first the left and then the right. Alex’s hair was a little wavy when he let it down, and he fixed the part, only fussing _slightly._ “So, Mr. Hamilton, what are you going to do now?”

“I’m stealing your boxers and going to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm never showing my face in public again 
> 
> kinkshame me in the comments
> 
> or..... join me


End file.
